


Weight it Out

by Cynthia_Silver



Series: Destiel Smut [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Armor, Armor Kink, Biting, Bottom Dean, Grace Sex, M/M, porn with just a little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 23:25:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5311064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cynthia_Silver/pseuds/Cynthia_Silver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to defeat a wind spirit, Dean needs to wear armor.  Smut ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weight it Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Coldplaying_In_The_TARDIS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coldplaying_In_The_TARDIS/gifts).



_Dude, I look awesome,_ Dean thought to himself as he pulled tight the leather strap of the last part of his suit of armor.  He was completely coated in silver metal from the neck down, chain-mail cascading proudly down his chest onto the polished plates of his legs.  Sure, the thing was heavy.  It would probably slow Dean down, too, but come on.  He had a sword and everything, though said sword was currently being enchanted by an angel.  He looked like friggen Lancelot, and Dean wasn’t about to get his ass blown away by a pissed wind spirit twice.  He needed to be heavy for this job, and boy was he ever.

Sam, meanwhile, was busy sending blackmail photos to Charlie while Cas finished making the deadly weapon even deadlier. 

Dean tore himself away from the bathroom mirror just in time to see Sam pocket his phone with a smug glimmer in his eyes.  Knowing his brother, Dean reminded Sam to “be careful with the blackmail, baldy,” and that “I know where you sleep.”

“Whatever man. I’m not the one with the D&D fetish.”

With a clink of metal and a deal of effort, Dean stomped his way towards Sam.  “It’s not a fetish,” he retorted defensively.  “It’s a hobby.”

Cas squinted at the two of them as approached them both, extending the sword’s pommel out to Dean.  “This will kill your wind spirit.  Just remember,” the angel advised very seriously as Dean sheathed the weapon, “to, in the words of Jon Snow, ‘stick it with the pointy end’.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean was secretly proud of the reference.  “Thanks, angel,” he replied, pecking Cas on the cheek.  Cas smiled softly back at Dean, warm inside and out.

This, in turn, elicited a much larger eye roll from the much larger Winchester.

“Be careful, Dean.”

“Aren’t I always?”

“No,” Cas retorted before teleporting away.

~*~

The wind this thing was producing felt like it was snatching all the oxygen from the room.  In fact, the gusts were so strong that they were quickly snatching the sword from Dean’s grasp.  He struggled towards the spirit, but it felt as if he were trying to swim up a river.  From a distance, Sam shielded a bystander—there was always a bystander—from the debris the wind spirit was hurling around. 

When he got close enough, Dean saw his chance and swung with all his might at the wind spirit—and he missed.  The sword, practically being thrusted into a hurricane, was twisted from Dean’s grasp and flung blade-first into the dirt about fifteen feet away. 

“Shit.”

That was Dean’s last eloquent phrase before the wind spirit surrounded him, sucking all the breathable air from his lungs.  Dean collapsed as he struggled for air.  The last thing he saw as his vision went white was Sam struggling in vain to reach him.

~*~

Dean awoke with a throbbing headache.  His limbs were heavy.  Was he… restrained? But… no, that was just the armor, pressing him into the mattress in another copy-pasted hotel room.  Turning his head, one angel of the Lord appeared to him, grouchy as ever.

“Did you…?” Dean questioned, unsure of how he had gotten to his current location, but guessing Cas had everything to do with it.

“You almost died,” explained Cas.  “Sam prayed to me.”

“Oh, that’s…” Dean struggled for words. After all, what do you say when you’ve just been rescued by an angel who is now rumbling by your bedside? “Is it dead?”

“Yes.  Sam is burning its core.”

Dean nodded softly and let his head fall back onto the pillow, relaxing as he felt his pulse slow.  They were silent for a few moments.  “Thanks Cas.”

There was a faint whisper of cloth as Cas’s coat fell to the ground in a heap.  The angel climbed onto the bed and straddled Dean, leaning downwards to kiss him fully.  “Don’t thank me, Winchester,” he growled into Dean’s mouth, pinching Dean’s lower lip between his teeth.  “Be. More. Careful.”

Dean’s pulse was very quickly picking up the pace again.  He moaned softly and went to run his hands along Cas’s sides, but the weight of the metal made the effort too tremendous to be worth it.  Instead, he left his arms at his sides and let Cas ravage his mouth and pull his hair and…. Wow, he shouldn’t be this hard this fast.  His length was already beginning to press against the thick lining of the armor protecting his hips and legs.

Cas, also hardening, pushed deeper into the kiss, claiming Dean and roughly tugging at his hair.  It was when he began to roll his hips down onto Dean to get some friction that Dean stopped him.  “Cas,” he panted, pushing the angel gently away, “how about we get undressed first?”

Cas considered this for a moment before a mischievous smile played across his features.  “I have a better idea.”

Dean watched with widening eyes as Cas trailed down Dean’s body, hands flowing smoothly down the cold metal.  His breath hitched when Cas’s palm stopped to hover over his crotch.  Dean only had a fraction of a second to wonder why Cas looked so smug before he felt tendrils of grace surround his leaking cock and begin to stroke him, up and down, achingly slow.  Instinct caused his back to arch, but the weight of the armor around him forbade him from rising from the bed, so in his pleasure all Dean could do was groan and writhe within the metal, clutching desperately as the heat built within him. 

Cas loved watching Dean fall apart like this.  He didn’t even have to touch him.  Most of the time his grace was enough to turn Dean into a quivering mess on the sheets.  With his free hand, Cas began palming at his own erection through his pants.  The sparks of pleasure that provided him made him hum even as Dean panted and swore beneath him.

“Cas, please, I need… please…” he moaned, and in response he felt Cas’s grace extend downward, filling him, rubbing against his sweet spot even as it stroked him.  He made a choked noise as he came, head thrown back in pleasure as his orgasm tore through him.  When the waves of pleasure receded, he realized that Cas was kissing him softly on his forehead, despite the fact that he was still sporting one hell of a hard-on.  He felt the angel’s grace spread warm throughout him, holding him through the aftershocks. 

“Love you, Dean…” he heard the angel whisper, and damn if that didn’t make his heart ache. 

With great effort, Dean flipped the two of them around so that Cas was beneath him and quickly positioned himself between Cas’s legs.  He pulled Cas’s pants and underwear off with a short tug and kissed his way up Cas’s thigh, working his lips up to where he knew Cas wanted him.  “Gonna make you feel so good, baby,” muttered Dean as the angel slipped his hand into Dean’s hair again, gentle yet needy, guiding him to his length.

Dean dipped his tongue into Castiel’s slit, flicking in and out a few times before sucking hard on the his head.  Cas made a small whimper and clutched tighter to Dean’s hair.  Dean hummed around his cock, taking more and more in as he rubbed with his tongue. 

It wasn’t much longer before Cas was coming inside Dean’s throat, moaning out Dean’s name as he climaxed.  Dean swallowed and came off of Cas before collapsing onto the mattress beside him, his arms tired of holding up the weight of his body and the armor. 

With a blink, the armor was gone, replaced by Dean’s favorite sweatpants and comfiest shirt.  Dean struggled to comprehend what had happened for a second before he pulled Cas into a lazy, thankful kiss.  When he pulled away some time later, he asked, “Hey, what did you do with that armor, anyway? We needed to get it back to the museum.”

Cas gave a huff of laughter.  “How did Sam put it? Fetish?”

“Shut up.”


End file.
